She pressed her hands to his chest, her fire blazing, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Stay with me. Please, Kael. Don't leave me. Not now. Not again."
Her fire poured into him, wild, unrestrained, threatening to consume them both. But she did not care. If it burned her, if it burned him, she would not let him go.
"Take me," she whispered to the flames, to fate itself. "Take my fire. Take everything. Just don't take him."
The flames roared higher, wrapping around them both, painting the night gold. Wolves froze, staring in awe and terror as the witch's fire consumed the battlefield.
When it dimmed, Kael gasped, his chest rising, his green eyes snapping open.
Aradia collapsed against him, sobbing into his skin, her fire guttering weakly. She had given too much—her strength burned, her body trembling.
But he was alive.
His arms wrapped around her, fierce even in weakness. His lips brushed her hair, his voice raw. "Never. Never leave me like that again."